


vigilantes and their mediocre endings

by ushijima ebooks (bokutowl)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Gore, M/M, One Big City, Vigilantism, Violence, big bro iwaizumi, police!Shiratorizawa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-04-15 13:12:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4608072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bokutowl/pseuds/ushijima%20ebooks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Yahaba Shigeru becomes the new in-home doctor for the richest man in the city-- and, arguably, the world-- there are many, many upsides to the situation. An amazing pay, room and board, everything he could want. The works. It was his <i>dream</i> job. </p><p>There are, however, a couple downsides.</p><p>....Downsides which all seem to be connected to the multi-billionaire's brooding and reclusive younger brother that seemed to have a shitty personality and an even shittier sleep schedule.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. butcher paper

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to hell! welcome to hell! welcome to hell!
> 
> anyway. this is my kyouyaha superhero au! the pairings are as follows: kyouyaha, iwaoi, ushishira. others will be decided later!  
> there are many, many characters in this thing. every team, everybody. i'm still working out who's going to be who, but if you have some suggestions.... i'm free to hear!
> 
> but before that-- warnings! there's going to be a lot of violence. it is heroes and villains. you're gonna get that. there's also backstories that have to do with orphanages, and things like that. i will put the warnings for the specific chapter at the beginning here, so you can know what to expect! if the warnings show that it is too much, then just tell me @ushijima_ebooks and I can fill you in for the chapter. 
> 
> the last thing! please drop me some feedback, please!  
>  **warnings:** description of violence, injuries, (very, very, very, very minor literally no one important) character death

Iwaizumi Hajime tilts his head to the side, his eyebrows furrowing as he stood next to his friend of four years, Oikawa Tooru. The two ten-year-olds were completely silent, studying the massive doors of the home as if they were to burst open at any given moment.

...Which, in any case, they very well could, soon.

Tooru was the first to break the silence, slowly leaning over to whisper in his companion's ear, "Didn't they say they'd be back by three pm?" Hajime merely nodded in response, frown trained directly on the door. "How long does it take? How far away are they going?"

"I don't know," he replied gruffly, scratching at a bandaid on his cheek, feet tapping with jitteriness that wasn't obvious anywhere else. Tooru tutted, rocking back and forth on his heels as his gaze dropped from the door to look anywhere else-- the massive foyer, the chandelier, the stairs leading up to the second floor.

"Are your parents really letting you stay up to wait for them? Doesn't your _nanny_ usually make us go to sleep by, hmm, a couple hours ag--" It was the first _real_ reaction that Tooru had gotten out of Hajime the entire evening, the slightly-older boy slapping his hand over the other's mouth.

"Shhhh. She doesn't _know_ we're not asleep, okay?" Hajime could feel the grin on Tooru's lips against the skin of his palm, and he snatched his hand away, continuing, "So shut up, will you?"

"Eh? But Iwa-chan's talking more than I am!" Even Tooru realised he was too loud at that, and slapped his own hands over his mouth, and winced when they heard a door open. Hajime _glared,_ and heaved a massive sigh.

He heaved another one when the door closed after a minute or two, and he crossed his arms over his chest. And the two lapsed back into a comfortable silence, with Tooru waiting patiently and Hajime tapping his foot even more.

The moment the massive doors opened, Hajime's breath caught in his throat, and Tooru's eyebrows rose.

His parents, along with a man in a black suit-- one of the bodyguards, he assumed-- walked through the doors, out of the rain, shaking off an umbrella. With them, a young boy walked along as well. He looked younger than Hajime and Tooru, surely, after all he was definitely smaller in size. The boy was looking down, frowning, sparse eyebrows drawn together in his irritated scowl.

At that point, Hajime couldn't even control himself-- he jumped from his hiding spot, effectively shocking Tooru, and ran straight towards the group, or rather, straight towards the young boy. At the sudden movement, the young boy jolted, and looked to hide behind something; there was no one for him to hide behind, however, so he just settled for looking in a different direction.

"Mom is-- is this him? My brother? Is he gonna be my brother now?" The couple looked between each other, then to the body guard, then back down to their son. They shared a couple whispered words, before the young woman turned, placing her hand lightly on the other young boy's back in an attempt to push him lightly towards her son.

Bending down to be eye level with him, Hajime's mother smiled lightly. "Yes, he will be your brother. Your _little_ brother. Make sure to take care of him now, okay? He's going to rely on you a lot." Another nudge to the young boy, and he finally turned his head a little to meet Hajime's gaze. He had some of the _oddest_ gold eyes Hajime had ever seen, but that was neither here nor there-- there were more _important_ matters to currently attend to.

Hajime was completely enthralled, all but rushing the poor younger boy, his eyes bright and lips pulled into an excited smile. The boy, however, seemed close to terrified, jumping a bit at the sudden rush, before slowly shrinking a bit. Everyone in the room seemed to notice this except Hajime himself, even Tooru-- who had half a mind to tell his best friend to give the poor child a little bit of room.

He didn't, though, because he knew that Hajime wouldn't listen if he did.

"My name is Hajime!" When the boy only responded with silence, Hajime frowned, and instantly assumed it was because he hadn't heard him. "Ha-ji-me. Can you say it?" The little boy turned away, stopped looking at Hajime, instead turning his gaze to his feet. The ten-year-old was getting impatient, and he frowned deeply, putting his hands on his hips. "C'mon! Say it--!" The moment his voice had raised in volume, the change was instant, and the little boy jolted—

\--and ran. Somewhere into the house.

It startled Hajime and Tooru, but the adults in the room seemed nowhere close to surprised-- Hajime's mother's shoulders fell and her husband sighed, while the body guard proceeded to walk in the direction the little boy had ran in. Hajime's eyebrows furrowed, and his shoulders fell too as he fidgeted with his hands. His mother saw this uneasiness, and she bent down again.

"It's nothing you did, dear. He's just... a little startled right now. He hasn't said a word to us, either." Hajime nodded slowly, still looking down. "This is all probably really shocking to him." He nodded again, and looked to Tooru, who had been silent this entire time, before turning back to look at his mother.

"Can we help look for him?"

She was silent for a moment, debating, before she smiled. "Sure, honey. Remember, be quieter this time."

Before they began walking in the direction the boy had disappeared, Hajime stopped, looking back up at his mother with curiosity. "Also-- what's his name?"

The young woman had already begun to walk away, but she stopped when she had heard her son speak. It was as if she were debating with herself again, but quickly came to a decision; laughing a bit before speaking, she said serenely, "Kentarou."

* * *

fifteen years later.

* * *

 

Work was.... hard. Yahaba Shigeru yawned, tapping the pen in his hand on his cheek as he stared at the _alarmingly_ boring screen in front of him. He'd been sitting in the same spot for the past five hours, and the irritatingly long list of medical terms and diagnosis had started to meld together as the day had gone on. Now, he had tried everything to make it seem more interesting-- singing the words to random songs in his head, reading them in funny accents under his breath, even finding some kind of filter so that the page itself would be some funky colors.

But, no matter how much he tried, the words of a medical dictionary were just.... well, never meant to be _fun._

Actually, none of this, none of this meticulous checking of medical dictionaries and other _extremely boring shit_ was fun. At all. Nor did it really use _any_ of the training that Yahaba had groomed for years, or any of his specialties. It was just.... looking at words. Lots of words. Over, and over, and over, and over again.

A couple more minutes passed, Yahaba kept looking at the clock. Desk jobs were fun, but this constant presence of a clock right above his head was nothing short of unsettling. Did it move less when he was watching it? How about when he forgot about it? Hmm, it definitely seemed to be moving slower today.... Or maybe that was just him.

There was no way he was going to get any more of this checked in the ten minutes he had until work was over, so really... there was no point in continuing. His supervisor had already gone home. Everyone else had stopped paying attention. Yeah, yeah, maybe he should be a little bit of a better worker. Maybe they shouldn't give him hundreds of pages of text to check within a five hour time frame and expect him to _not_ lose his damn mind.

Leaning back a tad in his seat, Yahaba pulled out his phone, eyebrows furrowed as he typed away on the small device.

 **> > > > >** _you finished working yet?_

It didn't take him that long to get a response.

"....You'd think it'd be easier to just _talk_ to me, Yahaba, we're sitting right next to each other." Watari peeked from over the separation between them, eyebrows raised and amused smile on his lips. "Don't you have one of those plans that makes it so you only have so many texts per month?"

Sliding his phone back into his pocket, he shook his head, yawning again. "Nah, I switched plans. got the unlimited texting and minutes plan. Made more sense." That made his friend laugh, and he leaned back down into his own cubicle, presumably to turn of his computer and clean up his desk for the night.

"Hmm, I would have thought you would have done that sooner. How many times have you run out of texts before the middle of the month again?"

Yahaba didn't respond; instead, he mimicked the other, finally turning off his own computer and shoving various pens and pencils into the drawer of his desk. He could clean it up better in the morning.

(Even though he wouldn't.)

After he was finished, he stood up, finally stretched out all his creaking limbs, and turned towards Watari. "Do you want to go get something to eat? I didn't get lunch." It seemed that the other was thinking about it, considering it. "...My treat?"

Watari already had his coat on. "Where do you want to go?"

Yahaba rolled his eyes. "Well, you know I never have any preference. And I always pick the place. Didn't I pick it last time, when you paid?" He grabbed his own coat and looked at the clock one last time. "So just.... choose a place."

The shorter male nodded as the both began walking towards the door. He laughed, rubbing the back of his head. "Fine, fine. That Korean BBQ place down the street good?" Yahaba nodded, following after. "It just opened, some I'm not quite sure how good it is yet, but we'll have to try it out sometime, right?"

"Mhmm. You got a point.... But I'm guessing you wanted to go more because of the barbeque itself, right?" When Watari's laugh turned nervous, Yahaba shook his head and rolled his eyes. Figured.  
They walked pretty much in silence once they left the building, but it was a comfortable silence; the city street was pretty busy, but not too busy. Yahaba was quietly taking in all the scenery, while Watari tapped on his phone-- a skill that had eluded Yahaba for the longest time now, how Watari was able to walk, dodge people, _and_ look at his phone the entire time.

"....One of these days, you're going to run into someone, you know."

If Watari had heard him, he didn't act like it. "Hey, have you been watching the news? The news today?" Yahaba just twitched, then looked forward and shook his head. "You know that company? Seijon?"

Yahaba snorted. "How could I not." The company ran everything in the goddamn city-- paid for it too. The streets, half the buildings, even the subways under the ground. Their presence was nearly _everywhere,_ and it was kind of hard to miss it.

"The founder and CEO died today." Yahaba stopped walking, turning to look at Watari with wide eyes-- and the latter continued to look at his phone, before looking up to his companion. "Well, it actually seems like he died _yesterday,_ and they've already appointed a new CEO."

"They can work that quickly? Find a replacement that quickly?"

Watari clicked his tongue and kept reading. "It seems they've been planning to replace him for a while now. This was... just their chance to do so, as gruesome as that seems......"

The two lapsed back into silence again, and Yahaba waited a moment before he spoke again. "....Who's replacing him?" Watari didn't even take his phone back out to see; it must have been a name he recognized.

"The founder's son. Iwaizumi Hajime. Not to many people are angry about the development, it seems. Apparently everyone's been expecting him to replace his father for the longest time now." Yahaba nodded as Watari spoke, biting his lip. Huh. It made sense.

"They're not even gonna wait until after the funeral before they're already finding someone to replace him? Isn't that in a little bit of.... I don't know, bad taste?"

"It's a multi-billion dollar company, Yahaba," Watari supplied, shrugging. "They probably don't have time for mourning the loss at all. Every second that company makes like, I think a thousand dollars? Or maybe it was just a hundred. Maybe just ten? Who knows. You get the picture."

".....There's a big difference in those numbers, you know." Watari laughed, and patted Yahaba on the back.

"You still understood what I meant though, right? So it wasn't all in vain." It didn't take too much more walking, and they were at the restaurant-- all the TVs were on to the news, detailing about the recently deceased multi-billionaire, and everyone in the place was watching it. Including the waiters and cooks.

It even took longer for them to get their food; it was understandable, though, because this was very obviously big news. It was a big company, and Iwaizumi Hajime had big shoes to fill. Sejion had the entire city's metaphorical family jewels in a vice grip-- in some ways, they could be considered more powerful than the mayor himself.

At least the entire sensation was interesting. Yahaba and Watari didn't talk much at all, settling for watching the news right along with probably every damn person in the city, their attention completely wrapped up in the facts about the 68 year old man's death the media was currently aware of.

Which was, apparently, none at all.

Maybe that's what made the entire story just a little more interesting. Yes, the old man was getting up there in age, definitely, but he wasn't old enough that him dying off was something that could be thrown to old age. There was.... something else. there had to be something else. Definitely.

They didn't speak to each other again until their meals were almost finished, all the meat having been cooked, their glasses of soda drowned down to the last drop. "...How long do you think the media is gonna spend on this?"

Watari shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "I give it a couple weeks. If they knew guy doesn't mess up or anything, then everyone's gonna forget about it. The story won't be interesting anymore." Yahaba hummed, nodding as he took out his wallet to hand his card towards the waiter. He didn't even want to look at the bull before he paid. Maybe he could settle for being pleasantly surprised.

(Hint: A week from now, when he looks at his charges for the month, the surprise will be anything but _pleasant._ )

As they stood up, Yahaba bid his friend farewell, because they'd be going in separate directions from that point forward, and there was no point in walking together anymore. They would see each other the next day anyway, at work.

The sky had long sense faded right on to darkness, and it would be pitch black if it wasn't for the fact that they were currently in the downtown area of the city. Lights were everywhere, so was sound and music and annoying cars.

Once Watari had waved goodbye with a "text me when you get back to your apartment, alright?" Yahaba had proceeded off on his walk back towards his place. It was a good distance from his work, maybe a kilometer or two, so much so that he usually took a taxi or bus there instead in the mornings, but this time he chose to walk. He wasn't in any kind of rush, anyway. Might as well enjoy the nighttime air.

....Plus, he had just spent a lot for dinner, he knew his poor bank account probably couldn't afford another bus fare, no matter how minimal the actual price was.

His apartment complex was dark, quiet, silent, and Yahaba was completely used to it. At first, the atmosphere was scary as hell, but now... it was just normal. No one in the place was a criminal, the landlord was like 70 and probably couldn't hurt a fly, and there were like eight kids total. And those kids were actually nice. All in all, Yahaba was pretty damn lucky that he managed to get such a good place to live. Apparently, Watari's place had eight serial killers on the block.

Or something like that, maybe Watari had been exaggerating. Who knows.

Jimmying the key into the lock, Yahaba yawned for the third time that night, throwing his bag on the small table beside the door and dropping his coat off on the hook right next to it. Even though he had just eaten, he was already feeling kinda hungry again.... maybe he could make himself a snack or something. It was times like this he really wished that Korean BBQs allowed take out. Maybe that was an idea for something later....

He figured he was in for a calm night, a calmer one than usual, because even the usually-loud streets around his apartment were rather quiet that night. His apartment was on one of the top floors, overlooking the city, and not a single bright _thing_ could be seen out of it. He could hear the outlines of some loud noises, maybe some fights in some close alleys, but other than that it was rather quiet. Was it a movie night, or a book night? Or could he go to sleep early? Maybe go to the twenty four hour gym across the street? He had a fuck ton of options at his disposal.

Or.... he could go back to working on finding a new job that wasn't the current shitty one he had. Something that actually used his degree, his years of medical school, instead of his current one that only used his ability to read and spell effectively.

Standing up from his place on the couch, Yahaba strolled over to his bedroom, taking off his clothing and hopping into the shower. Yeah. A new job. He could start looking for one as early as the moment he stepped out of the steam. It wouldn't take that long, would it? He had a lot of credentials, a lot of experience, a lot of expertise. Maybe he could finally work at an actual hospital, as a doctor, instead of as a dictionary checker.

Yahaba sighed, and lowered his head under the shower water. Yeah. That could work. He turned off the shower, sighing, and moves to step out of the shower.

Okay, that's what he would have done, if it hadn't of been for the massive crash he heard in his living room.

The young man scrambled to get his damn clothes on, his heart rate skyrocketing as he searched for some kind of weapon to grab-- and he settled for his umbrella, barely used that summer season. It had a pointy tip, good for all the necessary stabbing he might have to do in the next minute.

Once he finally had his clothing on and he was armed, Yahaba slowly crept towards his living room, trying to glance around the corner of the hallway in order to see whatever had made that noise before it sees _him_.

"Fucking-- fucking _hell,_ that hurt like a fucking _bitch--_ " Oh, oh no. Maybe he could act like he wasn't here, wait for whoever had fucking _said that_ to leave. But it seemed like the voice stopped, it got quiet, and Yahaba move from trying to look to trying to hide against the wall of his hallway. Maybe the guy didn't want any trouble. Maybe he just had a bad day. And somehow broke through his window.  
.......It was silent, though, now. Was he gone?

".....Aiight, I know you're still there."

Yahaba cursed in his mind. Well. _Shit._

"You don't come out, I go on my way." It was quiet again for a second. ".....And I'm sorry bout.... your window." Well. At least he was courteous. "....And your vase." Eh, Yahaba will let it go. Whatever will get this guy to leave his goddamn apartment quicker. "....And whatever the fuck this book is."

"You did _what_ to my book?" Maybe he should not have jumped out into the light, maybe he shouldn't have glared and _yelled_ , because damn that was this favorite book, how dare this _fucker_ mess up his book—

Well. "This fucker" was dressed in all black, mask and everything, and in general looked like a robber. Well, he would have looked like a robber, if it weren't for the fact that there was some glass sticking out of his back and he had what seemed like a man who had a really bad case of a broken neck at his feet. Huh.

Yahaba paled, looking from the man, to the _dead_ man, to his broken window, to the glass in the man's back, to the glass on the floor, then finally to his poor, poor book, which lied with its spine bent, on the ground.

The silence was _horrifying._

The first thing the man did was try to start speaking again. "....Okay, Listen. I can explain, alright?" Yahaba raised his eyebrows, despite his face still pale and fingers still gripping the handle of the umbrella as if his damn life depended on it. "I just--" And he had lifted his hands, in a show of meaning no harm, but a couple of his fingers were fucking _broken_ to the goddamn _side,_ and Yahaba almost screamed. "--wait, shit, really. I can explain. Don't worry about it."

"Don't _worry_ about it?!" His voice was high pitched, his eyes were wide, and he had half a mind to attack the man with the damn umbrella regardless. "Your _fingers_ are _broken_!" The man pauses.  
And looks to his fingers. Shrugs. "Huh. Yeah."

This was terrifying. He didn't like this. What the fuck. What was going on. Yahaba was panicking, his heart was going way too fast. This guy had like six broken fingers, and here he was, not even _shocked_ about it, just humming.

"J--Just. What do you want. Take it. I swear I won't call the police."

"You kinda have to call the fuckin' police." At first, Yahaba was about to ask _why,_ but then the man pointed back to the _other_ man in his apartment-- the **dead** one-- and Yahaba almost screamed again. "...Yeah. This guy is dead."

_"Don't you think I know that!"_

"....I was just making fuckin' sure, okay? You seem a little...." The only thing about the man that Yahaba could even make out-- his golden eyes-- seemed to look him up and down. "....frazzled."

"You just _broke_ into my apartment _\--_ through the window, _I might add--_ with six broken fingers, and a _dead guy,_ and you are surprised that I am _frazzled?!_ "

"...Well, aiight. I'd be more surprised if you weren't." Well. At least he's honest. Yahaba bit his lip again, then turned his eyes from the man in black to the dead man on his floor.

"....A-Are you going to move him? Or take him or something?"

The other guy almost looked _offended_. "Where the fuck would I take him? To the goddamn morgue?" Yahaba seethed, then glared, then pulled at his hair. Whoever the fuck this was... he was pissing Yahaba the fuck off.

"Just-- take him! You killed him!" The man was silent for a moment.

".......What makes you think I killed him?" Yahaba didn't even fucking answer verbally. He just leveled a _stare_ at the man. "...Ah. Yeah, yeah. I fucking get it."

"So move him! Your responsibility!"

".....I didn't say I really did! I didn't, alright! I haven't killed a single person!"

"They why is he _dead?!"_ It was horrifically silent, and the man looked down at the dead guy. Then back up to Yahaba.

“Well, I thought that was fucking obvious. He got his neck broken, dumbass.”

And, once again, Yahaba wanted to scream.


	2. asphalt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is a little bit shorter than the last one, only because i wanted to end it at a certain place.  
> 
> 
>  **warnings** : description of violence, description of falls, mention of robberies.  
> 
> 
> _ 
> 
> previously: 
> 
> _"They why is he **dead?!** " It was horrifically silent, and the man looked down at the dead guy. Then back up to Yahaba._
> 
> _“Well, I thought that was fucking obvious. He got his neck broken, dumbass.”_
> 
> _And, once again, Yahaba wanted to scream._

 

Yahaba reasoned that this guy must definitely be an idiot. Like, there was no other possible way. He frowned, then cringed, then groaned.

"What I _mean_ is-- how did a dead guy end up in _my_ apartment?" He paused a moment, furrowing his eyebrows, then he gestured towards both the dead man and the standing man. "Actually. How are you here too?!"

It was completely silent again, and the man looked away, holding his hands behind his back as he seemed to contemplate possible responses. It was a minute or two, and Yahaba had half a mind to attack the guy with his umbrella, but he finally ended up mumbling in a gruff voice: "That's not important."

Yahaba's response was all parts irritated, violate, and immediate. "Like _hell_ it is! It's _my_ apartment, _my_ broken glass on the floor _\--_ which, might I remind you, HAS A _DEAD MAN_ ON IT-- and _my_ carpet you're ruining with _blood_ from your various wounds."

"....Y'know, shaving cream gets out stains really well. It's fuckin' amazing, actually." Was this guy. Making _small talk_ with him? "Y'just gotta put it on there, scrub it in, let it sit for a little bit, and bam. You're done." Maybe this was all a dream. A really bad, really fucked up dream. This was pay back for Yahaba not tipping enough when he went out to eat tonight, wasn't it? Maybe he should go back tomorrow to the place and find the waitress and give them more money. Plead for them to lift up this curse. This was fucking ridiculous. And terrifying. But mostly annoying.

Yahaba massaged his temples with one hand, gripping the umbrella in his other. Calm. He had to keep calm about this. There was no use in flipping his shit, right? None whatsoever. "I don't care. I really, _really_ don't care. Just take the guy and get out, or I'll call the cops. On _you._ If you leave, right now, I won't call-- I'll pretend this was a dream."

"Pretty damn fucked up dream, don't you think...?" Yahaba dug in his pocket for his phone and flipped it open. "Okay, Okay, fine, Shit, just-- calm the fuck down, dude. I'll get him, I'll get him." And the phone went away.

The man bent down, cracking his knuckles and muttering something to himself before lifting the man quite..... well, _easily_ onto his back.

And that's when Yahaba _noticed_ something. He squinted, cocking his head to the side as he frowned.

"Your....... fingers." The man looked from his place with one foot out the window back to Yahaba, seemingly confused by his words for a little bit. Then he had a moment of _ah-ha_.  
But he played it off.

"What about 'em?" As much as he hated to, Yahaba returned his gaze to the dead man, or rather, the _alive_ man's hold on him. He thought for a moment, returning to biting his lip again.

"....Your fingers. They were definitely broken." The man moved back into the room, leveling a curious glance on Yahaba.

"....Nah. No they weren't."

"They _definitely_ were." The man looked away quickly, mumbling a _you must be dreamin'_ before falling silent, then kicking at some of the glass that was on the floor. Yahaba didn't remove his eyes from this guy, staying on his guard, trying to rationalize the fact that he had _definitely_ seen broken fingers, and— now that he thinks about it, shards of glass in this dude's back.

But now? There was none of that. At all.

.....Maybe he had been imagining it? Maybe fear had made this guy seem worse than he really was? There weren't any other really... sound explanations.

Yahaba snapped out of his little thought bubble the moment that he heard shuffling again, and he refocused back on this guy. He was looking at him again but this time it was odder. This time, it seemed like he was looking _through_ him with his eerily golden eyes, as if he were searching for something.

"Stop staring at me like that, it's creepy." Yahaba really, really did not mean to blurt that out. He definitely did not mean to. But he did, it happened, and it took the man off guard enough for him to jolt a bit before sharply looking away.

"....I'll give you the money to pay for this shit back. I guess I'll assume fault for this shit--"

"But it _is_ your fault."

"--like I was _saying,_ I'll give you the money back, out of the _incredible_ kindness of my fucking _heart,"_ he hissed, grip visibly tightening on the poor dead guy. How long had he been dead at this point? Where was this weird guy even taking him? This poor guy probably had a family and here he was, in the arms of a thief weirdo.

Mmm, Yahaba decided that he really didn't want to actually think about it. Actually, there were a lot of things about this situation he didn't want to think about at all. This guy dressed like a thief, the _dead_ guy in this guy’s arms, the amount of property damage, his ruined books, and his added-on mental strain.

The man took another moment to look around, and it almost seemed like he was debating on saying something, but decided against it. Sucking in a breath, he walked closer towards the window.

Yahaba just watched, dully, not even thinking about it as the man turned around and flipped right out of it.

He didn't have time to gasp before he effectively remembered that he was, in fact, on the twentieth floor of his apartment complex.

And the guy had just flipped _right_ fucking out of the goddamn window.

* * *

 

It wasn't usual that a frown would find its way onto Oikawa Tooru's lips-- nine times out of ten, there was some kind of smirk, or smile, or even the occasional grin. But this time, the only thing on the twenty-five year old's mouth was a deep frown, his eyes lowered and arms crossed over his chest. He hadn't spoken a quite a while, even during the entire meeting, even as Iwaizumi fell to slump back into his seat— something he _never_ did.

And the room stayed completely silent, especially after the board members had left, until Iwaizumi finally spoke again, leaning forward a bit and looking out the window towards the night sky.

"....You haven't seen Kyoutani, have you?" Oikawa smiled for the first time since this entire ordeal started, tilting his head to the side just a tad.

"I haven't. But, I'm not that surprised. Are you? He's never quite liked these things in the first place. I doubt this is an exception."

Iwaizumi's response was immediate, and he didn't even look away from the window. "It should be."

"Just because it _should_ be, doesn't mean it _is._ " Well, he wasn't wrong. He knew this, and Oikawa knew it as well.

(Of course, that was a given. More often than not, Oikawa knew when he was right. Because he usually was right.)

Oikawa finally uncrossed his arms as Iwaizumi stood up, eyebrows raising. "Do you plan on going to find him? You know he's _always_ been pretty good at this hide-and-seek game he occasionally loves to play." The young man shook his head, finally looking away from the window in favor of looking towards the door opposite of it.

"No. We can discuss what we have to discuss when he gets back. Or tomorrow. It isn't like the information is time sensitive or unknown to him. Plus, he’ll have to be here with the property discussion with Karasuno. Sawamura-san and Sugawara-san will be here pretty early in the morning." Oikawa merely nodded slowly, standing up from his position of leaning against the wall to walking over to Iwaizumi. The frown was back, but this time it was the subtle downward curve of his lips that made this much more than a frown.

He didn't speak for a couple more minutes as Iwaizumi seemed to be lost in thought. It wasn't like he had much to say about this, about the turn of events, because it wasn't like this was _unexpected._ Oikawa himself had known for quite a while that the board had been planning to replace Iwaizumi's father as CEO, but.... whether that had been known to the son himself was left in the air.

Oikawa had known Iwaizumi for a while now, almost over two decades, and in that time he reasoned that he had become a good judge of what Iwaizumi was feeling at any given moment. Now, though? It was.... difficult to gauge. And he didn't know if he was personally irritated about that, or if there was something else that was grating at his mind that he couldn't quite place.

And, at times like that, he knew there was nothing better he could do than plainly ask.  
His voice was soft, light, and he didn't look at Iwaizumi. He looked in the direction out the window that had his best friend's attention.

"Are you okay?" Iwaizumi finally looked away, starting towards the door out of the conference room, his lips drawn tight together in a tight line, his hands clenched. The moment Oikawa had asked it, the brunette had known the answer.

"....I will be."

And, apparently, Iwaizumi knew the answer too.

* * *

 

Yahaba didn't know what to say. Or do, for that matter. All in all, he was generally in a very, _very_ confused and partially terrified state of mind. So much so that the moment the man had flipped out the window, and the moment he remembered it was a twenty-story fall, he had dropped the umbrella right where he stood and rushed towards the edge of the broken window.

He looked out of it for any kind of splat on the ground 200 feet below, but there wasn't anything except passing cars and their drivers that didn't seem to have any other care in the world.

After drawing the curtains in to attempt to close off the draft and taking a couple steps back from the window, Yahaba sucked in a breath, running his hands through his light brown hair as his frown went from concerned to, once again, plain fucking _confused._ Completely disappearing after falling from a twenty story window was one thing, but...

...how had he broken through the window in the first place?

It wasn't like the windows were made of particle board-- it was _glass._ That took force. A fuck ton of force. So, how did a man crash thought it, if he was on the twentieth floor? And then apparently sustain no injuries?

Mmm, definitely a dream. This was all definitely a really bad goddamn dream, and Yahaba was very soon to wake up from it. Or, maybe, even if it isn't a dream, he'll ignore the entire happening.

Yes! Ignoring it! Yahaba Shigeru was going to _ignore_ the past thirty minutes of his life.

After walking to pick up the umbrella, Yahaba placed it back in its holder by his door before proceeding to retrieve his broom and sweep up the glass on the floor. What was the glass from? Goodness gracious, he can't remember for the _life_ of him. It was a gosh darn modern world mystery. Maybe he had a glass plate throwing party? Definitely. There seemed to be so much glass, so much blo-- wine! _wine_ that was spilled on the floor.

Hmm, he heard from somewhere the shaving cream gets _wine_ out of the carpet fairly well.

At least, he hoped that the solution worked, because he was only currently renting this place. Of course, he planned and hoped to move out sometime soon-- maybe because of a _fucking job change_ \-- but as for now, he doubted that the landlady would appreciate any kind of marks on the carpet. Or the broken window. ...Which brought this all back into perspective. Sadly.

What was he supposed to do about this _fucking broken window?!_

Yeah. The guy had very well said that he would pay it back. He would give him the money to fix the window. But how reliable was the word of a man in a mask and all black who had crashed through the window of his gorgeous view of the city with _another_ guy whose neck had been snapped? Did he even want to see this guy again? How much would it cost to repair the window? Would the guy know how much needed to be coughed up?

_How was Yahaba supposed to explain this to his fucking land lady?_

Once he was finished sweeping up all the glass and throwing it in the trash, Yahaba started to walk back to his bathroom for shaving cream. The landlady was currently on a vacation, if he remembered correctly. Maybe, hopefully, he could have the money to replace this fucking window before she noticed.

(Because it wasn't like _no one_ would notice. It's an almost-completely broken window on a massive high-rise in the city. People were definitely going to notice.)

Getting on his knees, the young man proceeded to scrub some of the shaving cream on the stains— _wine stains! wine stains!—_ before standing back up in order to wait. It seemed like his only hope was that he could fix the window in the very near future. Then, maybe he could successfully forget about all of this and go back to job hunting.

He huffed at the thought, giving one more glance to the shaving cream smeared on the floor, before going to his luckily-intact couch and laying across it. He'll give the shaving cream a couple more minutes. Those stains were in pretty damn deep.

Step one to forgetting about this entire mess was television, right? Mindless entertainment or news could definitely distract him. Instantly remembering his tiredness and yawning, Yahaba wiggled a bit on the couch in favor of reaching for the remote that rested on the coffee table. It wasn't that late now, so there should still be at least _some_ interesting things on television, right? Maybe some movies. Or the evening news.

Flicking the television on, Yahaba shifted again to lie down completely on the couch, his cheek resting on his palm. He'd do well to forget it, at least for tonight.

At first, he simply clicked through channels, eyes dully absorbing the bare minimum of the content-- the program, the actors, and what channel it had been-- before clicking forward. It was a simple process. Now it was just a matter of settling on something… which was much more difficult. Game shows always aggravated him, especially ones where there was actually knowledge involved, so he couldn’t do those. He couldn’t watch all the soap operas, because all he would do is yell at the screen about how Mitsune should _definitely not_ be seeing Takedo, because he’s been cheating on her—and she knows that! She knows he’s been cheating on her, but she keeps going back to him! Maybe, if she hadn’t found him after the mysterious death of her uncle, a low point in her life, she would be able to kick him to the curb easier! But no, instead, Takedo came to her in a time when she needed a shoulder to lean on, and the fucking _abused that,_ because he’s a goddamn pile of shit!

\--or. That _would_ be what Yahaba would see if he watched soap operas.

The news tended to be a toss-up—sometimes they would bore him immensely, other times they would be interesting, and occasionally he would turn it off for his own mental health. Sometimes it had gotten too much, seeing all the various acts of violence and just general _sad stories_ that seemed to plague this entire city.

This time, though, it seemed they were still talking about the death of that CEO, and his successor/son. Was it really that big of news? Like Watari had said, was it really that unexpected, that the man had died and the son was going to replace him? Despite how odd the circumstances of the death were, which would no doubt get investigated sometime soon, it still didn’t seem _that_ unexpected to Yahaba.

So, he stayed on the channel, even though the remote remained in his hand, poised to change at any time. Even though he knew he wasn’t planning to change it any time soon. That was the really interesting thing, he supposed, how the news seemed to keep him entertained, no matter what was on.

The newscasters continued to talk about and debate the inner workings of this news story, giving out speculation after assumption, always prefacing with the fact that these were just that. _assumptions._ If only to take the blame off. There were already rumours spreading of the possibilities of foul play in all of this, and the number one _possible_ suspect was that eldest son. Which, of course, didn’t make any real sense to Yahaba, but who was he to judge? The idea that people acted differently in the spotlight was always a real deal, and maybe the son was the nicest in the world—it doesn’t mean there were things he wouldn’t do for greed.

But then again…. there was something about him that made Yahaba believe that he wouldn’t do something like that. He couldn’t know for sure, of course, but… It was a gut feeling of his. The guy had a trustworthy kind of face.

He had fallen into the same routine of mindless absorption again not soon after that news segment had ended, another yawn leaving his lips as he stared blankly into the semi-void of the television. Now, he was watching the news of all the horrible things that had happened that day, including what seemed like some gruesome bank robbery on the east end of the city.

As the names and drawn faces of the robbers— who had apparently killed two bankers and stolen thousands of dollars— rolled across the screen, Yahaba watched with bland interest and even debated on changing the channel until a _familiar_ face came up on the roster. He sat upright quickly, thanked the gods above for advanced video technology, and paused the television right on the face.

It was the dead guy.

The _face,_ on the television screen, of the main head of one of the bank robbers, was the _dead_ guy that had just been in his apartment not even an hour ago.

He jumped for his phone so quickly he fell off the damn couch, having long forgotten about the shaving cream he had rubbed into his carpet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter:;  
> 
> 
> _The tall man frowned deeply, his eyebrows drawing heavily over his olive eyes; it kind of made Yahaba want to sink back into his seat a little bit. Instead, he settled for looking around the police station until the man spoke up once more in his deep voice. "Well, I have no reason to not believe you. You do not seem untrustworthy."  
>  _
> 
> _Yahaba breathed a sigh of relief._
> 
> _Whether he meant to or not, Ushijima quickly extinguished that relief with a single sentence. "You will have to be brought in for questioning, however."_
> 
> _Yahaba wheezed out a sigh of agony._
> 
> _ 
> 
> the next chapter will be a little longer, if only to make up for the length of this chapter.....  
> 
> 
> but!!! please! look forward to it! (yes, next chapter will have the introduction of quite a few more characters that you will be seeing frequently c:)


	3. card stock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't fuckisn know  
>  
> 
> **warnings:** language, mention of injuries  
> 
> \-  
> 
> previously:  
> 
>  _It was the dead guy._  
> 
>  _The face, on the television screen, of the main head of one of the bank robbers, was the dead guy that had just been in his apartment not even an hour ago._  
> 
> _He jumped for his phone so quickly he fell off the damn couch, having long forgotten about the shaving cream he had rubbed into his carpet._

fifteen years earlier.

* * *

 

"Ha-ji-me."

The boy merely tilted his head to the side, frowning, before looking down at his outstretched feet. Hajime frowned down at the boy, placing his hands on his hips as he stared down at him. The smaller boy had only been here for a couple days, but.... he hadn't said a word.

"C'mon! Is it hard to say? Can you not say it? Do you need me to spell it?" The smaller black-haired boy continued to keep his gaze away, rocking lightly side to side, even as Hajime spoke to him. His mother and father had told him to spend _quality_ time with his new little brother, play with him, but something about the way they had said it had put him off a bit-- like he was a _pet,_ not a child they had just adopted.

Either way, Hajime had decided he was going to be a good big brother.

.....Even if this was going to be more difficult than what he had originally thought.

They were on the first floor, in Hajime's massive playroom, and the moment he had been led into the room, Kentarou had walked to the middle of the area and sat right in the middle of the floor. He didn't touch a single thing, not a single toy-- he had just sat right in the middle of the room, albeit looking around curiously. Hajime was at least content that he wasn't running from him anymore, because he had definitely been doing that the past day or two. Any steps forwards were _good_ steps.

Now, the next step was getting him to at least _interact._ Hajime thought for a moment, then turned away from the boy in a quick movement, jumping to go find something. "I know! I'll show you my favorite thing to play with! I've had it for a while, Oikawa got it for me for my birthday--" When he returned, he hid it behind his back, relishing in the fact that he now had all of Kentarou's silent attention, the golden eyes straight on him. Hajime grinned wide, then held out a Godzilla action figure towards the smaller boy. "Since you're my new little brother, we get to share things. You can play with this too!"

Hajime held his breath as tight as he possibly could as he watched Kentarou's reaction, terrified that a single noise would scare the boy away. But, all Kentarou seemed to do was lift up a bit, cocking his head back to the side as he reached out to gingerly place his hands on the action figure. He looked back up at Hajime, as if asking for permission again, and Hajime couldn't help but beam again and push the figure towards the other. "You can, you can!" And then, they boy did something that Hajime hadn’t seen him do in all the time he had spent with him the past couple days.

His lips turned into a delicate smile.

Kentarou’s ears turned a little red as he took the figure into his hands, looking down at it, eyes widening as he looked on in wonder. Hajime felt his chest swell with pride, and happiness, because he was _finally_ getting some kind of positive reaction. He wasn’t being completely ignored. Since he decided that this was a good sign, he also decided to take the next step.

Bending down, Hajime sat on the floor next to the smaller boy, crossing his legs and placing his hands on his knees. Kentarou was completely content to just…. stare at the figure in his hands. Gingerly, Hajime moved to nudge the action figure’s arm a bit. “You can make him move, you know.” This seemed to completely elate him, and his eyes shined, looking down to move the little monster action figure’s arms, jumping a little bit with a gasp when a little mechanical _raaaaaaaaaaaawr_ erupted from it. At first, Hajime was worried that he would get scared away, this would finally be it, but if anything this seemed to amuse him further.

This…. This was a good feeling, and Hajime continued showing the other boy different things that the figure could do, even telling him _this is the sound a monster makes, you know?_ and making sure to use this time of Kentarou’s attention the best he can.

After a while, he became less worried about not scaring Kentarou or losing his interest. Instead, Hajime was talking animatedly, arms spread as he kept explaining about Godzilla, the fights he had with all his enemies, and all the _cool_ things he could do. Kentarou seemed to hang on every word, even sitting forward, his golden eyes wide and filled with so much curiosity and wonder that Hajime believed that must be their natural state. Even when he ran out of things to say and explain, the older boy kept talking, making noises and showing the other how to exactly play with the creature.

And Kentarou continued to listen to every single word.

For a second, Hajime had completely forgotten that this was a boy he had just met a couple days ago; he had forgotten that he did not have a single clue about anything concerning this boy except his name and his lack of any kind of will to speak. Instead, he could not be bothered with that at all, none of it mattered to him. What _did_ matter was this tightening, warm feeling in his chest whenever Kentarou seemed to smile even a small bit.

Because that meant he was _connecting_ with him, that maybe he could be at least _okay_ at this whole big brother business.

When Kentarou’s smile went from delicate to wide, eyes shining and face lit with mirth, Hajime felt more pride than he had ever felt.

And when Kentarou looked down bashfully, cheeks red again, and mumbled slowly, “….Thank you, Hajime-nii,” Hajime smiled so wide his cheeks hurt.

* * *

fifteen years later.

* * *

   He wasn’t in that good of a mood.

   Dropping the one hundred and sixty pounds of _literally_ dead weight from his arms, Kyoutani Kentarou looked up, and down, and around his surroundings— alright, an alley now. Much better than a roof, or a street, or the living room of some random guy who has either had a heart attack by now or is calling the police at that very moment.

   Instinctively, Kyoutani tugged off the black mask from his face, grimacing and using his hand to dust off all the remaining glass from his now-tattered clothing. Not wasting a moment of time, he flipped out a walkie talkie (that was luckily….. somehow not broken?) and continued to glance down at the dead man at his feet with derision.

   Pressing the switch on the side, Kyoutani crossed his other arm over his chest and leaned against the brick wall of the alleyway. “Hey, you fuckin’ there? Or did you fall asleep, you goddamn ass?”

   It was silent for a moment, then there was a static _creaaaaaak_ until finally, a voice. “ _What was that? Was someone trying to contact me? Hmm, they’re not using the right terminology, I guess I can’t answer—“_

Kyoutani cut the voice off. “Will you stop the bullshit?”

   _“Will you say what I told you ya gotta say?”_ Oh, he was a fraction of a minute from completely snapping the walkie talkie right in his goddamn hand. But, he didn’t. Instead, his hissed a sigh, chest heaving, eyes closing. _“Well……?”_

   His eyes remained closed as he sneered into the walkie, “Paging the fucking _Puffinator,_ this is….” Another heaved sigh. “….The Paper Man.”

   There was a loud laugh. _“Holy shit, I can’t believe you said it, Kyoutani you **actually** said it, oh my god, I can’t breathe, I’m so glad I recorded it—_

“I’m going to punch you in the fucking teeth.”

   _“So! Kyoutani! Did you catch the guy~?”_ Of course, a change in topic. The young man switched the weight on his feet from one foot to the other, biting his lip for a moment.

   “…..Technically.”

   _“Technically?”_

“Technically.”

   There was a long pause. And then, more laughter. _“You fuckin’ killed the guy, didn’t you, Kyou? I **told** you that you would, and you did it again!”_

This time, the walkie did kind of crack in his fingers, his teeth gritting as he growled a little too loudly into the device’s small speaker. “I didn’t kill him, you goddamn shitstain!” Kyoutani looked back again to the guy on the ground, his frown deepening drastically as the defensive tone in his voice got even worse. “He….. j-just happened to die! While he was running from me!”

   _“……Heh, Kyou, you’re pretty bad at this, you know? Batman has a better track record than you.”_

“….Shut the hell up. What am I supposed to fucking do with him?”

   No sound came out of the walkie for a minute or two, and Kyoutani had started to think that maybe the other had either fallen asleep or had gotten busy with something. But, just when he was about to leave the damn guy right there, some static erupted from the walkie again. _“….Well, you were going to take him to the police station, right? Why not take him there?”_

   “…..I don’t think they’re gonna appreciate a fuckin’ dead body on their doorstep.”

   _“Oh? You wanna keep him instead? I knew you lived alone, Kyou, but there’s a point where this is ridiculous.”_

“You know what I fuckin’ mean.” There was just more of that goddamn laughter.  “How the hell am I supposed to take a dead guy to the front door of the police station without them fuckin’ seein’ me?”

   _“Just drop it, then jump the fuck out of there, Kyoutani! You’re thinking about it too hard. You did what you needed to do, it’s outta your hands now, isn’t it? ….Metaphorically, anyway.”_ A fraction of a pause. _“But— I do got a question. Where’d you put the money?”_

Kyoutani fell silent, looking at the paved ground underneath him, as if he were a kicked puppy. “I just, uh. Put it back. In the vault.”

   _“……..So you’re telling me. You went back to the bank, around the guards, went through those goddamn lasers, into the vault, and just. Put the money back. Sat it in the middle of the goddamn floor of the vault. Then you left.”_

Well. When it’s put that way, it sounds a little ridiculous. “…Yes.”

   _“But you’re **afraid** to play a little ding-dong-ditch?!” _

“The police are _much_ worse than those fucking bank guards! They can’t do shit! The police are _trained_ better, though!”  Kyoutani wasn’t that eager to go anywhere near the police station, _especially_ if that guy from before had called the police— because if he had, the police would no-doubt be on the lookout for him. He was lucky, though, that he had worn a mask, or he might have been in much deeper shit.

   ….So, maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. Put the mask back on, drop the dead guy off on the stoop, and high-tail it before the police would be smart enough otherwise. After all, he had done the considerably-most important thing, which is return all the money, so maybe he’ll be forgiven for this?

   ….On the other hand, if that guy had gone to the police, and he mentions the dead robber (which…. there’s no reason he wouldn’t), then Kyoutani will be directly linked to this entire business. Which would definitely be an issue.

   _“…..Kyou? You still there, Paper Man?”_

Heaving up the dead guy once more with his free arm, Kyoutani pulled his mask back over his face as he glared forward. “I’ve told you once, and I’ll tell you fuckin’-again.”

   _“Hmmm?”_

Walking deeper in the alley, he pressed the button on the walkie-talkie one last time before he grabbed the scaffolding to hoist himself up.

   “Don’t fucking call me ‘paper man.’ You know I fuckin’ hate that shit a fuckton, Hanamaki.”

* * *

 

Yahaba shifted awkwardly, side to side. He was still in his pajamas, which was embarrassing enough, but now that he had been dragged from his apartment and right to the goddamn police station by a cop that _definitely_ broke some traffic laws, he was….. well. Feeling pretty damn jittery.

  So  damn jittery, in fact, that he had forgotten to bring shoes with him to the place.

  Here he sat, shoeless, in a t-shirt and pajama bottoms with little sheep on them, waiting patiently (read: with unbridled panic) for the police chief to arrive from his house, while trying— with not success— to calm himself down. Certainly, the only two police officers in the room at the time were not making this task any easier; and it wasn’t even like they were drilling him with questions. Rather….. it was the _lack_ of questions.

  “Hey. Eita. Do you watch American football?” It had to be a miracle, Yahaba reasoned, that this guy was talking with so much energy and light in his eyes at what could only be no earlier than 3am. “Because, I mean, it’s pretty damn interesting. Only sometimes, though. But not interesting enough for me to always be up at 3am to watch the shit, you feel? It helps these boring-ass nighttime shifts, though.”

  By the drained look that his partner had affixed him, Yahaba figured that this officer— Tendou Satori, he might have said in the cop car? Yahaba didn’t know. He was too busy screaming for his life— never stopped talking. Even at _three fucking am._

  “But some of the same shit must happen to them too, right? Like, I know at least SOMEONE over there watches football. So they get up like, what is it? Six hours earlier? To watch it. So if the game happens at 12pm, they have their asses outta bed at 6am. So I guess they kinda do experience the same kinda bullshit—”

  “Oh my _god_ Satori, stop talking.”

  “— _but!_ Don’tcha think that maybe, they should make some universal clock for sports? Like, all a’ them? Or, at least, sometimes air American Football at 6am for them, so it is evening for us, and I can watch the shit in my apartment with my pants off—which is the best way to watch sports, mind you—? Same with football in Europe, of course. Air it at like, midnight there, so the Americans can watch it in the evening.”

  Maybe Yahaba should thank the red head in the end, because his continuation of his apparently extremely beliefs concerning sports and air times caused his partner to abandon listening to him in favor of standing up, grabbing a clipboard with a couple of sheets on it, and walking over to Yahaba.

  (This was, of course, not without a _O-Oi, Eita! I’m still talkin’!_ and then the most childish huff imaginable.)

  “Ah, I don’t want to listen to him talk anymore.” He said it. He actually admitted it! That was the only reason he came over! Yahaba paled a bit. “So, we can start filling out this paperwork so when Wakatoshi gets here, there’s less for him to do, and you can get outta here quicker.” This guy (with what seemed like either dip-colored tips on his hair or his hair had grown so much since his hair dye) was a godsend. Definitely.

  The man exhaled a sigh of relief, and even forgot for a moment that he didn’t have any shoes on and that his feet were _freezing._

  Semi— at least, that’s what his nametag had on it— raised his eyebrows for a brief moment before leaning his weight on one foot and looking down to the clipboard. He paused, then began asking Yahaba all the standard, simple questions that the young man had been expecting to be asked when he had first arrived. Things like his name, age, address, occupation, if he consents to searches and examinations, etc. All in all, it was going pretty smoothly, the questions weren’t that hard. It was much easier to talk to Semi, or talk at all for that matter, than it had been to Tendou; the latter had filled in all the available space with questions of _Ah, so you saw the guy? But dead? Dead!_ and _Oh my goodness, dude, where yo shoes at?_

  So. Yeah. He liked talking to Semi _much_ better.

  But, of course, since things seem to only run in Yahaba’s favor for mere minutes at a time, that comfort and vague feeling of relaxation dissipated the moment the doors to the police station opened.

  The Ushijima Wakatoshi wasn’t just large, per say, but he had a _presence._ As he walked in the room, Yahaba found himself sitting up straighter and putting his hands right in his lap— because, he felt, the man demanded order and attention with _just_ his presence in the room. The second that he walked in the station, and hung his coat on a coatrack behind the front desk, he turned his gaze directly to Yahaba. And opened his mouth to speak.

  But, he was cut off by Tendou, who had thrown an arm around the other’s taller-set shoulders.

  “You took at _least_ twenty minutes longer this time than you usually do, Wakatoshi, what gives? Usually you can get here in five minutes tops, even on your forced-days off!”

  The stern looking man either wasn’t bothered in the slightest by Tendou’s closeness and question, or he was so used to it that it didn’t matter. Maybe it was a mixture of both. Regardless, he looked at Tendou, lips quirked into what was probably a typical frown. “I was asleep when I received the call. And there was traffic.” Tendou tsked, then released his hold on the other before sauntering back over towards his seat. Semi, who had been staring at the entire interaction, rolled his eyes before finally giving some kind of contribution to it.

  “Satori, leave him alone. Remember, it’s _three am._ ” That only got him a laugh, a loud one at that, but otherwise Tendou remained silent. As if this were a cue, the police chief finally turned his attention to Yahaba. And Yahaba, once again, sat stark-straight, eyes wide and posture perfect.

  “Are you Yahaba Shigeru?” The light-haired young man nodded slowly, keeping eye-contact only because Ushijima had been as well. He didn’t know what was scarier— keeping eye contact with those piercing olive eyes or risking looking away. “And you said that— if I remember correctly from what Tendou told me— a man wearing a ski mask entered through your window, holding the man you believe you saw on the television notice, but he appeared to be dead?”

  “I am _sure_ he was dead. Actually, I know he was.” Supplying more information than was asked seemed to surprise Ushijima a bit, because he raised his eyebrows, then crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Oh?”

  Yahaba paled a bit, finally looked away from Ushijima’s eyes, but only for a fraction of a second before he looked back. “I’m a doctor. Uh, I mean. I’ve been to medical school. Well— I have my degree. So I _promise_ you that guy was very dead.” Ushijima simply nodded, eyes lowered, as if he were thinking.

  “And where did the man go, with this dead body?” Alright. This was the craziest part. Definitely. Absolutely. Most certainly. Yahaba sucked in a deep breath, then fidgeted with his hands in his lap, and bit his lip.

  “Uh.” C’mon, it wasn’t that hard to say. Not that hard to say at all. “…Out the window. He jumped. Right out the window.”

  It was dead silent.

  Yahaba could hear himself breathing. His heart beating. His skin sweating. It was unpleasant. At least…. Well, Ushijima wasn’t looking at him for the moment, instead focusing on the floor, still thinking.

  But when he looked up, the tall man frowned deeply, his eyebrows drawing heavily over his olive eyes; it kind of made Yahaba want to sink back into his seat a little bit. Instead, he settled for looking around the police station until the man spoke up once more in that deep voice of his. “Well, I have no reason to not believe you. You do not seen untrustworthy.”

  Yahaba breathed a sigh of relief.

  Whether he meant to or not, Ushijima quickly extinguished that relief with a single sentence. “You will have to be brought in for questioning, however.”

  Yahaba wheezed out a sigh of agony.

  Okay, maybe he was overacting. It couldn’t be that bad. It was probably only going to be a couple questions here and there, ask him again if they’re okay with a search of his apartment, cut and dry.

  “Hey. I got a question, though.” Tendou wasn’t looking at them, and his tone was oddly different than it usually was. It seemed off. Yahaba, Ushijima, and Semi all looked at him, all with the relatively-same expression of curiosity. “I saw you lived in a high rise, and you said he jumped out the window. How’d he survive a fall like that, and no one reportin’ anything?”

  Yahaba paused, then bit his lip again. The question made him think…. of something. “Ah…. I remember another thing.” The attention was back on him again, and he shrunk back a bit in his seat, but he didn’t stop talking. “When the man broke through my window, he had glass in his arms. And his fingers were broken. But before he left, his fingers were… _better_ , and the glass that had been in his arms was…. on the floor, or something, I just know that it was _gone._ ”

  The air in the room changed. Got heavier.

  Ushijima turned, gave a look a look to Tendou, and the red-haired man nodded before standing up to start packing up and putting on his coat— but not before grabbing a walkie-talkie and saying something into it. Semi seemed to do something similar, putting down the clipboard he was holding in favor of going to his desk and packing things up. Yahaba looked between all of them, obviously confused, and Ushijima thankfully seemed to pick up on this.

  “I am afraid you may have to stay here longer than you thought, Yahaba-san. Unless you have someone you can stay with.”

  Yahaba’s eyes widened, and he stood up out of reflex, frown deepening. “Wh-What? Why?” Ushijima looked away, at Tendou and Semi, who were both who seemed to be getting bags ready. One of the bags each seemed to belong to themselves, but the other bags must have belonged to different officers. Either way, it was still extremely weird.

  “We have to start the investigation tonight, in your apartment, rather than wait. You…. Have not been the first to report something like this.” Yahaba’s silence prompted him to continue. “Seeing a man in all black, who was injured at first, then healed somehow.”

  Now, this made a few things go through Yahaba’s mind; one, that he was a little relieved. Alright. He wasn’t going _completely_ out of his good mind, because other people had seen the same damn weird-as-fuck thing he had. So that was definitely good. Two, he really, _really_ didn’t want this to be happening. At all. Because this seemed like a big-as-fuck clusterfuck of a mess that Yahab was sure he did not want to be a part of. Three….

  He needed to call Watari for a place to stay.

  And he was about to do that, to ask for a phone, when Tendou started speaking. “I already got Tsutomu on call, he’s gonna be here in probably like, I dunno. Five minutes. I don’t think he sleeps. Either way, me and Eita are gonna head out, alright?” As he opened the door out the station, he slung his bag further up his shoulder. “Pretty sure Kenjirou’s already on his way t—”

  When Tendou stopped speaking— which was, apparently, a rare enough occasion that it warranted everyone’s attention— Ushijima, Semi, and Yahaba all turned to look at whatever seemed to have his attention out the door.

  Semi was the first to speak up. “…Satori, what…?”

  Tendou didn’t look back at them. “Well, Shigeru wasn’t lyin’. The robber was definitely dead.” Yahaba didn’t pay any mind at the moment to the fact that this guy he met _maybe_ three hours earlier was now calling him by his first name. Instead, he was furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

  “…What.” Tendou finally looked back at them all, and stepped to the side.

  His lips pulling into a grin, eyes still filled with confusion, he pointed to the dead body lying neatly on the police station’s doorstep. “Someone’s dog left us a _really_ nice present.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter;  
>  
> 
> _Kyoutani looked between Ushijima and Yahaba, then lowered his shoulders and glared. "Whether or not there is an investigation going on in the building doesn't change the fact that-- uh, uh--" Shit, he hadn't really thought he would get this far. Quick, quick, bullshit something quick-- "I bought this."  
>    _
> 
> _Yahaba's mouth dropped open a bit and Ushijima's eyebrow raised. "This?"  
>   _
> 
> _Well. Shit. Kyoutani stood up straight. Wasn't going to back down now. "Yeah. This. The entire fuckin' highrise."_
> 
> ___  
> 
> someone help yahaba honestly  
> 
> (p.s.: drop me a lil comment on how i'm doin' so far/what ur thoughts are!! i'd love to see)


	4. buckypaper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry it took SO LONG for this chapter so. the chapter is really long. like, 5700 words. there's so much
> 
>  **warnings:** n/a 
> 
> \- 
> 
> previously: 
> 
> _Tendou didn’t look back at them. “Well, Shigeru wasn’t lyin’. The robber was definitely dead.” Yahaba didn’t pay any mind at the moment to the fact that this guy he met maybe three hours earlier was now calling him by his first name. Instead, he was furrowing his eyebrows in confusion._
> 
> _“…What.” Tendou finally looked back at them all, and stepped to the side._
> 
> _His lips pulling into a grin, eyes still filled with confusion, he pointed to the dead body lying neatly on the police station’s doorstep. “Someone’s dog left us a really nice present.”_

The fact that Yahaba wanted to use the phrase "criminally unfair" to describe the situation was a problem in itself; maybe because the current situation was definitely neither the time nor place for puns, or maybe because all he could _think_ of at the time were puns, and that was infuriating enough.

Okay, maybe things weren't _as_ bad as what they had been in the twenty-four hours previous-- Watari had, easily enough, agreed to let him stay over at his place with little to no explanation as to why Yahaba couldn't stay in his own apartment.

(Watari deserves some credit. Not too many people would allow a 'The police told me I could not say a word about the current situation because it is all sensitive information' excuse.)

That didn't, of course, make it so that Yahaba was completely relaxed and de-stressed by the time that he could return to his apartment some time at 1 pm that next day. Oh, quite the contrary. He was extremely stressed out. Near panic. Watari had to withhold his coffee supply that morning purely on the grounds that if Yahaba had any caffeine at all, he would probably vibrate right through the Earth's crust.

The amount of police cars outside his apartment building was the first terrible sign. The second terrible sign was the massive, loud, bulky red tape surrounding the still-broken outside window of his apartment room. Alright! Yahaba kinda wished he had some fucking caffeine. But, alas, he fucking did _not,_ thanks to his best friend being a _good best friend,_ so he settled for sucking in a massive breath of air before pressing onwards into the building like the valiant trooper he was not in the slightest.

The first sound that met his ears as he went up the elevator was much less a "sound" and more like a "voice" and that voice was the Tendou guy who, maybe, hadn't stopped talking since Yahaba last saw him? Maybe?

The second sound he heard was a _new_ voice, and this voice was telling Tendou to shut up for a second, in quite a manner that had reminded him of the Semi guy from the night before; but the voice seemed to be coming much less from a place of exasperation and more from a place of irritation.

Yahaba liked the guy already.

When the doors finally opened and the young man finally set sights on his room again, he breathed out a sigh of relief at the fact that it all seemed to still be intact and there weren't as many people there as he thought would be their previously. Alright, maybe he could do this.

"Ah~ Shigeru, glad you came back~!" Yahaba had long stopped correcting Tendou, long stopped saying _Please, call me Yahaba-san._ because he learned early on that it fell on ignoring ears. "We have some questions for you." Well, that was a terrible way to start this entire thing back off.

"....Questions."

"Questions!" Tendou's smile widened, and he slipped his notepad into his pocket and started walking straight towards Yahaba-- who, for the record, had only taken a couple steps at most out of the elevator. It seemed like Tendou had been sent outside the room for some reason, and all the other officers were inside. Huh.

Yahaba squinted, taking a few more steps towards his room, only getting more suspicious when Tendou moved to block his view of the apartment. What was he…? “Didn’t you guys ask me enough ‘questions’ yesterday?”

“All we asked ya then was the simple stuff. Name, birthday, reason for calling us.” He gestured with a hand for them to sit at a bench in the elevator’s foyer. “Now we got _harder_ questions.”

Oh. Harder questions. Yahaba sat slowly in the semi-comfortable chair, tapping his fingers on his knees like he had the night before. “…..Uh, alright. I understand.” Tendou was already sitting down, and he looked up from pulling open a new sheet of paper to give Yahaba a smile.

“First. What time of night did this occur?” …..Had he looked at the clock? What the hell had it said? Yahaba thinks for a moment, looking up and around the sparsely decorated room.

“I heard the sound at around 22:30, and he was out the window around 23:00. And that’s when I turned on the television.” Tendou was scribbling the entire time, and when Yahaba peeked over the scribbles barely looked legible. Or like actual, cognitive writing.

That didn’t stop him from asking more questions, however. “What did he look like? Any recognizable traits?”

That… was a more difficult question. The brunette’s eyebrows furrowed, and he hunched over a bit as he thought. What did he remember from last night? “…He was wearing a mask.” Completely unhelpful. “His voice wasn’t deep, but it wasn’t high. Some kind of midrange, but a little hoarse.” A little less unhelpful. But still vague as hell. Yahaba felt like he was forgetting an important fac--

“And his eyes.” Ah, yes. That was it. “He had bright golden eyes. They looked like…. like they were _unnatural._ ” Tendou stopped writing for a moment, looking back up to Yahaba, and his mouth quirked into a half-smile-- one of those smiles that looked like he had some inside joke that only he was aware of.

“Yeah. Y’mentioned it last night, too. They that impressive?”

“Not impressive, so to say,” Yahaba continued quickly, feeling his ears heat up a little. “More like unforgettable. Or important.” Tendou let his gaze linger on Yahaba for a couple more seconds before he looked back down to write.

“Okay, okay! I getcha. Next question! Tell me more ‘bout--”

“Can’t we go into my apartment?” The question stopped Tendou mid-sentence, which Yahaba learned early on was a feat that not too many could accomplish frequently. “And if no, why not?”

Tendou seemed to be thinking and speaking at the same time. “Civilians can’t go in while officers are doing investigations We gotta get prints and the like. You said he had broken his fingers and had injuries, right? We’re trying to see if we can find blood, and you know it’s hard to do that with civilians walkin’ around! Now…” He held up the clipboard again, giving Yahaba another glance at the wild writing on it, “...the sooner I finish the questions, the sooner you can be free a’ me, and you can talk to Wakatoshi.”

The rest of the questions were not as strenuous, just questions about his lease and the apartment. About different things he had seen while he was out, if he had any friends or acquaintances that would be aware of where he lived. Once he was finished, he stretched and stood up,

“Alright, alright. Just wait out here until I send out Wakatoshi, alright? If anyone’s gonna give the go-ahead to go back into your apartment, it’s gonna be him.” Yahaba nodded slowly, vaguely appreciating the fact that Tendou had added that last bit in a sorta-attempt to calm him down a little, even if it hadn’t worked that well at all.

“Okay. I’ll.... wait.”

* * *

The first thing that had happened when Kyoutani slinked his way back into the first floor of the highrise was that a fist slammed right into the back of his head, making him jolt and yelp.

“Where the _hell_ have you been?!” At Iwaizumi’s tone, Kyoutani’s shoulders hunched just a tad and he glanced away, lips pulling into a soft pout. It was as if they weren’t in the lobby of the corporation’s main headquarters, with how loud Iwaizumi was speaking-- it happened so frequently, it made Oikawa laugh just a little bit as he stood next to his boss. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Oikawa had the urge to say that “we” means “just you, Iwa-chan,” but he refrained, because he would rather not have Iwaizumi’s anger directed at him at the moment; it was hard enough seeing Kyoutani look like a kicked puppy.

“I didn’t want to be here,” Kyoutani muttered, moving from foot to foot, “It’s stuffy as fuck, and you’re all suffocating as fuck.” To all the onlookers-- at this point, it was everyone in the lobby and the receptionists-- it seemed like Iwaizumi was only getting angrier and angrier, when Oikawa and probably Kyoutani too could tell that the emotion Iwaizumi felt most at the moment was _relief._

That became more obvious when he spoke again. “Next time give some kinda warning, alright? Then you can go off to wherever.” Kyoutani finally looked back at Iwaizumi, giving a curt nod before moving his gaze elsewhere once more. “But for now, we’re almost late for the meeting. I told you to show up an hour early, didn’t I? That’s so you can at least get some breakfast or something, which I _know_ you didn’t have…”

They all started to walk as Iwaizumi kept on speaking, his tone a mixture of lecturing and muted concern. Oikawa stayed behind, hands clasped behind his back as he watched the other two walk in front of him. If anything, he was moderately surprised that this time Kyoutani had actually come in a suit-- other times he had dared to wear jeans and an old button up.

(Iwaizumi had literally kicked him out of the meeting for that, ordering him to come back in a suit, and that they would all _wait_ for him.)

It was kind of fascinating, watching Iwaizumi and Kyoutani have a conversation, because Iwaizumi was the only person Oikawa had ever really seen Kyoutani have a conversation with. Everyone else only seemed to get quick words and sharp sentences, but Iwaizumi was the only one to get some kind of dialogue, even if that dialogue still had a knack for being pretty damn one sided regardless.

Oikawa smiled a bit as Iwaizumi continued speaking. “Have you made your decisions yet on what properties we want to buy?” Kyoutani nodded wordlessly.

“I haven’t visited all a’ them yet, but I know which ones are the best to purchase from Karasuno right now.” Iwaizumi nodded, pressing the button for the elevator. Kyoutani continued speaking in that gruff voice of his. “I’ll probably visit the last one after this meeting and shit.”

“Hmm, that’s a good idea. The meeting shouldn’t be that long. Sawamura and Sugawara are almost always prompt in our meetings.” Iwaizumi gave Kyoutani a side-glance then, eyes narrowing a bit-- it made the younger male hunch his shoulders a bit. “You would know that _if_ you had shown up to the last meeting.”

“I had shit t’do, alright…” It was kind of a mystery, exactly what “shit” Kyoutani had to do whenever he wandered off, but it was a complete mystery to the entire company. Not only did they never know where he was, but they also could never seem to really get in contact with him when he disappeared. It seemed like he would just fall off the face of the Earth at the drop of a hat.

Scoffing, Iwaizumi crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, next time you have shit to do, update me, alright?” The worried tint in his tone was back, and Kyoutani seemed to have picked up on it at least a moderate amount, because he nodded wordless. Oikawa could tell when Kyoutani was just agreeing to get someone to stop talking, versus when he genuinely planned to change his actions.

The latter seemed to be the case at the moment.

".....A'ight."

Iwaizumi's lip twitched into an _almost_ smile, and he stepped into the elevator, waiting until Oikawa and Kyoutani were both in it before speaking again. "Good." He was silent for as the elevator rose, humming once the doors reopened on one of the top floors. "Make sure to update me on that last property once you decide whether to purchase it or not, okay." Kyoutani merely nodded, even though he was standing _behind_ Iwaizumi, but that didn't stop the older male for understanding his agreement regardless.

As they walked towards the boardroom, Kyoutani seemed to scratch at his right ear-- it caught Oikawa's attention, causing him to lean just a bit to the side in order to see if he could decide exactly what it was. "Hey, Kyouken-chan...?"

Oikawa got a snarl in response, but he also got his desired reaction of a turn of the blond's head. "What." Taking the chance to peer closer, Oikawa raised his eyebrows and hummed. Huh. A bluetooth earpiece?

"Ah, just curious as to when you started using bluetooth earpieces." This gained Iwaizumi's attention as well, because he looked back to the two of them as well-- just in time to see Kyoutani snatch the earpiece from his ear and stuff it in his pocket.

He didn't meet either of their eyes, instead looking straight ahead to the doors of the boardroom. "I use one sometimes. Easier than pullin' my phone out every damn time someone here calls me for some shit."

Now, Oikawa has known Kyoutani for a long time now, ever since Kyoutani had been only a couple years old. One of the first things he noticed was that whenever Kyoutani lied, his ears pulled back juuuust a little bit, and his jaw clenched. It was subtle, barely noticeable, and something that Oikawa was quite sure neither Kyoutani nor Iwaizumi had ever quite picked up on. But Oikawa had _definitely_ picked up on it, and usually tended to reveal the lie accordingly, but this time, he decided to leave it be. ...Mainly because, well, he had no idea what to do with the information. What part of his answer had been a lie? Was it the part about it being a bluetooth earpiece? Or how about the part of it being for phone calls?

He could very easily check if it was for the latter, because he could just call Kyoutani's phone and see if the bluetooth piece rings; the problem, though, is that the bluetooth piece is in his pocket now. There's a chance he wouldn't be able to hear it regardless, even if it were a bluetooth earpiece.

....Essentially, all Oikawa knew was that there was something Kyoutani was lying about.

"We have about five minutes until the people from Karasuno arrive," Iwaizumi started speaking the moment he sat down at the head of the table, reclining just a little bit in his chair. "We talk about the properties, the planned trades, and that should be it." Oikawa and Kyoutani took their seats on either side of Iwaizumi.

"We're talkin' about properties again? I thought that's what _visiting_ them were for? Wouldn't it be redundant to talk 'bout them again?" Iwaizumi merely shrugged at Kyoutani's statement, and Oikawa took a moment to scoff at how similarly they sat-- it was still so obvious that Kyoutani tended to copy Iwaizumi.

"It never hurts to revisit topics. There is a lot of money being spent, after all." The moment he finished the sentence, the doors to the boardroom re-opened, and two people walked in.

Sawamura Daichi was one of the two other people to ever have a presence as commanding as Iwaizumi's was. He constantly held his head high, shoulders squared, and Oikawa doesn't think he's ever seen him outside of a board room. The difference, though, was that Sawamura tended to smile quite easily, something that would commonly contrast sharp features, but looked completely natural on him.

As for natural, Sugawara Koushi could make absolutely anything seem like a great idea and superb course of action. He was _constantly_ smiling, no matter the situation it seemed, and he also seemed to have a response prepared for every single situation presented to him. Sugawara was much less Sawamura's glorified assistant and much more his full-on business partner.

(Needless to say, something about Sugawara tended to set Oikawa's nerves a bit. What was even more infuriating was that Oikawa couldn't quite place what that feeling exactly meant.)

"It's good to see you, Iwaizumi, Oikawa, Kyoutani." Sawamura immediately moved to shake their hands, only being mildly surprised when Kyoutani made little to no effort at first for a handshake (until Kyoutani reluctantly gave in like a scolded child).

"It's good to see you two as well." Iwaizumi offered a nod to Sawamura and Sugawara as the two sat down at the seats closest to the window. "I know this meeting is a little impromptu, but we all wanted to get the trades discussed as soon as possible."

Sawamura's smile widened. "Don't worry. The sooner the better, honestly. Have you guys made any decisions regarding which properties to purchase completely?" At that moment, Kyoutani immediately, walking right over to the map of the city without a question. The abrupt movement made even Sugawara jump a bit in his seat, but Iwaizumi was so used to it he didn't even flinch.

"We have a couple a' ideas. Out of the eight properties put on the table, we plan to buy #2, #4, #7, and #1; decline #8, #5, and #3, and I haven't visited the last one yet." Kyoutani pointed to the middle of the city. "This one specifically, #6. M'pretty sure we aren't gonna buy it, though, because it's in a pretty shitty location. Surrounded by a ton of other, much taller buildings. We can't think of anything we'd do with it 'cept admire the view from it ever so often."

"Ah, he's so blunt, isn't he?" It was the first words that Sugawara had spoken since he had been there, and they were said with the smallest of laughs, his eyes crinkling at the edges. Either Kyoutani didn't notice him, or he didn't choose to respond to the comment.

"The other four," Kyoutani continued, pointing to each building one by one, "Are all close to our office buildings, and I feel they would be good purchases because it would give a close place for some of our workers to live. Everyone's always lookin' for a shorter commute time, each one has a park near for kids, and are all in generally safe locations." Sawamura hummed, and he seemed genuinely impressed with Kyoutani's idea, if his appreciative facial expression was any indication to Oikawa. Honestly, the only reason Iwaizumi didn't have a proud smile on his face is because this wasn't out of the norm for Kyoutani at all-- for all the stink that the young man tended to give concerning working and the like, he never half-assed anything. He never made a decision on a property until he visited it in person, which was one of the reasons that Iwaizumi trusted his judgement 100% on the matters.

"Well, that seems like a good reason as any. Any changes to the prices already discussed?"

"No. The prices are good as-is. Even for that fifth property, if we decide we'll purchase it." At the very end of his sentence, Kyoutani headed back to stand behind his seat. "Everythin' is in the portfolios that you're gonna get before you leave. Call me directly if you decide to not let us purchase the properties for some damn reason." The blond gave one more look to Iwaizumi before turning right on his heel and heading for the door, leaving without a single word.

Needless to say, it surprised everyone except Iwaizumi and Oikawa, who were-- once again-- used to Kyoutani's less-than-polite behavior. Sawamura laughed a little bit, scratching his cheek.

"He's also really to-the-point, isn't he? Not a single wasted word." Iwaizumi sighed finally, offering a shrug as he opened the book in front of him in order to begin discussing the trades.

"Kyoutani hasn't wasted a single word since we first met."

* * *

 

The moment he exited the room, Kyoutani cursed himself so loudly that a passing intern jumped a little bit in his skin. Digging into his pocket, he grabbed the earpiece and put it back in his ear and pressed the button on the side. "Asshole, you knew I left the piece in, didn't you? Why didn't you goddamn warn me?"

It was a couple seconds of silence before any noise came over the piece. _"What? You act like I have cameras all over the place that can see what you're doing at any given tim-- Oi, oi, oi, don’t flip me off you asshole!”_ Kyoutani looked away from the nearby security camera, shoving his hands back in his pockets as he walked towards the elevator.

“You and I both damn well know you can see any shit you wanna see.” All Kyoutani heard in reply was a soft hum, and then silence following as he walked into the elevator. If there was anywhere that Hanamaki didn’t have ‘eyes’ it would be in elevators-- there were no cameras in there, after all.

He could still hear everything that Kyoutani was saying, though.

_“Mm, whether that is true or not isn’t the issue. You’re going back to that apartment complex, ain’t ‘cha?”_

“Yeah.”

 _“Aw, you always listen to Iwaizumi! That’s so adorable I migh--”_ Kyoutani snatched the earpiece out of his ear and crushed it in his hand immediately, top lip pulled tight into a sneer. He could always get Hanamaki to send him another one, after all. It wouldn’t take that long, and they weren’t expensive or anything. ….The only problem was keeping Hanamaki from giving him a hard time about it.

Sadly, something that Kyoutani thought would be a problem for another day ended up being a problem nearly immediately; right as he stepped out of the building, his phone rang. Rolling his eyes, Kyoutani pressed the phone to his ear before growling, “What.”

 _“Stop breaking those just because I say something just a_ _**little** _ _upsetting!”_

Kyoutani’s eyebrow twitched as he turned immediately down an alley next to the building, fully intent on taking the backdoor route to the car garage. “Don’t fuckin’ call me on this phone! What if someone traces this shit?”

_“Shoulda thought of that before you broke the earpiece, darling.”_

“I swear to fuckin’ god, it is so damn easy to--”

There was a laugh. _“Do you really think I don’t know how to hide calls? That’s elementary, Paper man.”_

“I’m going to fucking hang up.” He climbed into his car, buckling himself in has he all but glared forward. “Seriously. I’m going to hang up. I hate talking and driving.”

 _“I know, I know. You’ve told me. You hate talking and driving, talking and eating, talking and walking, talking and jumpi--”_ Kyoutani hung up on him again right before starting the car.

It didn’t take long at all to drive there, mainly because Kyoutani had already memorized the route after going there the night previous; of course, alterations had to have been made because the first time he went he had been…. Well, _technically_ on foot.

This was a risky venture. He was sure it was a risky venture, especially when he saw all the police cars _still_ at the apartment, especially when he saw the loud-ass red tape around one of the top floor windows. Kyoutani could surely avoid that entire ordeal, right? The only person he _had_ to talk to was the current owner and landlord of the building, ask for a tour, and decide if the property was really worth purchasing.

Taking a deep breath after he parked in the building’s lot, Kyoutani peered up one more time at the building. What were the chances that the guy from the night before would be there today? Especially if the police are there…. Surely the guy stayed with someone else? Then again, what were the chances that the guy remembered him at all; Kyoutani’s face had been covered up, he didn’t have contacts in his eyes at that point, and he had pointedly made his voice a little gruffer.

( _“One step closer to being imitation-Batman, you know.”_ )

A couple moments later, Kyoutani finally does step out the car, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walks to enter the building. He could probably due to try not to glare as much, but that would take too much effort and he would forget to do it in a quick minute. Instead, he kept his head down, profile low, slinking quietly towards the elevators as to not attract any attention. The less attention he could bring to this visit the absolute better.

“Sir, do you live here?” Kyoutani frowned instantly, turning towards the speaker, his finger a centimeter from the button. The man seemed to merely be a desk assistant, someone that Kyoutani had obviously overlooked when he first entered. It didn’t seem like the guy had recognized him, which was…. good?

“No. I’m meeting with the landlord for a tour.”

The desk assistant answered so quickly that Kyoutani supposed he had answered the question already. “I doubt the landlord is giving tours today. I don’t know if you _saw,_ but the police are here.”

“No, I saw,” Kyoutani responded simply, his voice dry, if not tinged with annoyance, “I just didn’t give a fuck.”The desk assistant seemed to not enjoy that answer at all, because he scrunched his nose up and bristled.

"No matter what business you have with them, I doubt it will be improved by going during a-- _Sir!_ " All Kyoutani heard as he stepped into the elevator was an irritated groan.

Naturally, Kyoutani couldn't really give less of a fuck about whatever this guy had to say about why it was a bad idea to go up to the landlady. However, interestingly enough, the desk assistant seemed to not recognize Kyoutani at all-- which, to Kyoutani, was a good thing. It meant that his assholery would be attributed to purely being a personality problem, rather than being the product of living an affluent life.

For some odd reason, such a thing was always comforting to him.

Nonetheless, Kyoutani shoved his hands back into the pockets of his suit pants, a look of concentration aiding to steel his features. He planned for the entire situation to be quick; he was just going to get a tour and go. In the eleven minutes that he had already been in the apartment complex, his opinion of it was already downgraded from "alright" to "meh" and he doubted that a tour would change that.

Once the doors to the elevator opened and he took a couple steps out to the hallway, Kyoutani's jaw tightened. The place really was riddled with police, a shitton of them, and _fuck_ he had hoped that the landlord's office hadn't been on the same floor as this shit, but... he was out of luck in that respect.

The next step was to devise a way as quickly as he could to get around this, and that was definitely the plan, but he was distracted almost _immediately._

The apartment owner was back.

He was talking to one of the police officers, but seemed to notice the exact moment that eyes were on him, because he turned to look right at Kyoutani, despite the fact that he looked as if he was in mid-sentence. The two of them made eye contact and for a couple long seconds, Kyoutani wondered if he had forgotten his contacts, if this guy could _recognize_ him from that night, if he had--

"Why are you _staring_ at me?" Wait. Shit. Fuck? That's what probably looks weird as hell. He just walked out an elevator to stare at someone. Kyoutani shook it off in an instant, answering back almost immediately.

"I wasn' staring at you. I was thinkin', and happened to be looking that way." Okay, the excuse was pretty shitty, but it seemed to satisfy the apartment owner and the cop. "You know where the landlord's office is?"

 

 

Yahaba's day was already going downhill, and now he had to get stared at by who seemed like the most unfriendly stock broker in existence. The guy had a frown on his face that looked like it must be a permanent fixture on his features, and his shoulders were hunched over. And was that.... bleached hair? It's the twenty-first century. Who the hell ever has bleached hair anym--

"Kyoutani Kentarou!" Tendou pretty much _yelled_ his name, causing both Yahaba and the guy in the suit to jump a couple inches in the air, although the other guy took on a rather unnecessarily defensive stance immediately after.

The man seemed cautious. "Yeah...?" At his response, Tendou seemed absolutely thrilled, eyes going wide(er) and smile getting large(r) as he stepped away from Yahaba in favor of going towards Kyoutani. Yahaba, meanwhile, was still trying to put together why that name was exactly sounding familiar.

"Whoa! I never thought I would meet one of you two in person! Say, is your brother really not that much taller than you? How about his favorite food? Is it really just some tofu?" Kyoutani was definitely not enjoying all these questions in the slightest, and he kept fidgeting and looking away.

"Doesn't matter to you," After the second time Yahaba heard his voice, he stopped trying to remember who "Kyoutani Kentarou" was. Mainly because this voice..... reminded him of something. He could not put his finger on it for the life of him, but the voice had a slow, gruff richness to it. Before he could exactly place where the voice was from, Yahaba's brain was on a different train of thought, and his mouth seemed to be following its lead.

"...Iwaizumi Hajime's younger brother." The revelation wasn't news to anybody in the vicinity, so all Yahaba was met with were squints and confused stares. Tendou's confused stare was replaced very quickly with his usual expression of playfulness.

He laughed. "Yeah, isn't it cool! He's Iwaizumi Hajime's brother! You know, I hear he's the one that controls all the property purchases-- hey, is that why you're here to see the landlady?"

"Do I look like I plan to move in here?" It was alarmingly easy for Yahaba to take serious offense to that rhetorical question, but he was definitely a better man than that. "This isn't exactly 'prime fuckin' quality' real estate."

......Yahaba's eyebrow twitched, and he pointed down the hall past his own apartment. "The landlord is down there, and to the left. I don't know if they're in there right now, but if they aren't you just have to come back another day."

"They don't have a cell number? Or a list? What about that damn desk assistant guy? Does he not keep track of guests and shit?" Tendou's eyebrows furrowed, and he tilted his head to the side just a little bit before looking at Yahaba a moment.

"This building's employee record didn't say that there was a desk assistant."

Yahaba sighed, rubbing his temples. "That's because there _isn't._ That's just this guy that likes to fuck with people coming into the building." It was quite humorous, how many variations of irritated emotions went over Kyoutani's face in the span of six milliseconds. Yahaba almost genuinely laughed.

Before he could, however, Ushijima finally exited the apartment-- even though Tendou had called for him a good twenty minutes prior. "Forgive me for taking so long to return after your call, I was--" His sentence fell silent the second he laid eyes on Kyoutani, and his frown deepened.

(Yahaba mused that it was pretty interesting, Kyoutani must do that to quite a few people.)

"Kyoutani Kentarou. What is your business here?"

"Nothin' that's important to you, _sir._ " Kyoutani was the epitome of lacking respect, his shoulders still slunched and sneer starting to curl at his lips. Ushijima took offense to this, matching the shorter man's glare with one of his own.

" _Nonetheless,_ there is an investigation occurring currently. No entering or exiting this floor until after questioning, so you will not be able to do whatever you plan to do here."

 

 

Kyoutani looked between Ushijima and Yahaba, then lowered his shoulders and glared. "Whether or not there is an investigation going on in the building doesn't change the fact that-- uh, uh--" Shit, he hadn't really thought he would get this far. Quick, quick, bullshit something quick-- "I bought this."

Yahaba's mouth dropped open a bit and Ushijima's eyebrow raised. It was a couple more moments before Ushijima spoke again. "...This?"

Well. Shit. Kyoutani stood up straight and squared his shoulders. He wasn't going to back down now. "Yeah. This. The entire fuckin' highrise." It was a lie, an easily refuted lie, and all it would take to refute that lie was the landlord. But, the landlord wasn't here right now, they apparently don't have a cell they can be reached at, and the moment Kyoutani got in contact with Hanamaki again, he could get something fabricated. "You can't kick the owner out of his own goddamn place."

This, of course, was not an incorrect statement. It also was a statement that Ushijima had no way of currently proving actually applied to Kyoutani. "You are right," he conceded after a moment or two, tilting his chin upwards. The only person who seemed even slightly amused was Tendou; maybe it was because it was a rare sight to see Ushijima so truly irritated in the first place. "We have no right to keep you from a building you own."

Yahaba bounced from foot to foot, glancing away for a second before looking back. "...When will the investigation be finished? So I can go back into my apartment?" Ushijima returned his nearly overpowering gaze to Yahaba.

"Thirty minutes at maximum, and we will be gone. However, you are aware that we may be returning in the near future for more information from you, correct?" Yahaba nodded silently, keeping his eyes to Ushijima's until the other turned away to disappear back into the apartment. Tendou, who had been quiet this entire time (and the longest time Yahaba had ever seen him be quiet), merely gave Yahaba and Kyoutani an eerie smile before following after his boss.

It was silent between the two of them for just a couple of seconds; once Yahaba knew that Ushijima and Tendou were out of earshot, he turned right to Kyoutani, eyebrows drawn down and eyes narrowed.

"I wanna know why you lied to them."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter;
> 
> _"There's something he's hiding, I'm sure of it." Watari's eyebrows rose, and he shrugged before taking a bite of salad and leveling a look to Yahaba._
> 
> _"A'course he is. He's the second-richest guy in the city, and he's the younger brother of the **richest** guy. He's bound to have secrets." Placing his fork down, he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "The biggest question is if those secrets are going to affect you a lot, you know?" Yahaba scratched his cheek before tapping his fingers on the table. _
> 
> _"Ah, well-- I told you what he offered me, right?"_
> 
> _ 
> 
> i promise i won't take 6 months to update next time i really promise i'm sorry...

**Author's Note:**

> did u enjoy! please tell me!!  
> did u hate it! im sorry please also tell me


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